The Scattering
by Lunita Cero
Summary: Broken people are not supposed to fix things. So, what's to happen when fate puts this responsibility on two broken hearts? Takeru never wanted to be a hero... now what is he to do with a missing brother and a girl as lost as he is? Chapter Three.
1. Chapter One

Tokyo was gleaming like a scattering of jewels beneath the night sky, winking in and out of sight, buzzing like a beehive in its evening business and traffic. Takeru stared down at it from high atop the building, squinting down with a deep azure gaze at his city and the ground far below, at the oblivious masses. He kneeled on the concrete and rested his hands on the cold ends, ready to spit at the existence beneath.

_…Jump…_

He nearly did in his surprise, turning quickly in his crouch to find the source of the voice. Shadows welcomed him, eating away his vision, the rooftop blanketed in darkness. He couldn't see more than two feet behind. "Who's there?"

_Jump, little one…_

Out of instinct, he remained crouched, wary and watchful, his hands fisting. But his heart wasn't pumping in fear, on the contrary, his blood was singing in response to the voice. "Who are you?"

_Jump, and be free…_

His confusion was thick, but it quickly dissolved into cold pangs of alarm as the shadows began stretching toward him, dark feelers reaching out to caress him. He backed up before they could touch him, his feet bringing him to a sudden stop on the edge of the roof.

_Jump, little angel… jump…_

There was no escape except down and that wasn't even an option. The shadows when they reached him were a void of feeling, the numbness setting in as soon as they touched him, urging him back, back towards the edge.

_Jump, little angel… jump…_

"No…" He closed his eyes and slumped forward as his legs lost strength.

_Be free, angel… Jump and be free…_

The shadows were swallowing him up, taking the chance, burrowing in his chest, his body lost to him, but he was still aware, awake, forcing himself not to fall. "…No… stop…" He shook his head weakly and tried to get up, to open his eyes, to _remember._ "Okaasan…"

Frustrated, he forced himself to regain control and managed to push himself to his knees, forcing his heavy eyes to open. Weak from this alone, he lifted his head and looked up into the hazy distance, into a light. A bright light that hurt his eyes and ate his vision as much as the darkness had, but he didn't avert his gaze. He watched transfixed, as the light grew closer, as it slowly took the form of a female… a female with a bow.

The shadows slithered away from him, recoiling in the brightness of the light, but they weren't quick enough, his chest still swarming with what he saw now were small inky critters he couldn't name.

The girl lifted her bow, aimed her arrow of light…

"No!"

… and shot.

* * *

**The Scattering: One**

* * *

Something was dripping, faintly; keeping a rhythm that Takeru eventually woke up to.

For a cold sweaty second, he pegged it as his blood, the steady drip of his life draining out of him from his shoulder blade where the burning arrow had gone through him. He waited for death to claim him, weakened by the realization.

But then his alarm went off, surprising him into reflex and he sat up with a quickness impending death surely couldn't have left in him. He pushed the off button on his alarm and blinked at it for a moment, trying to recover his wits. Soon enough, his dusty, old alarm clock came into focus, along with the time. The hands over the faded Astro Boy background indicated that it was ten after seven.

Sighing, he fell back into his pillows, realizing that it had all been just a dream. A crazy dream in which someone had tried to kill him… more than once, at that.

""Keru-chan…" His mother's voice drifted into his bedroom.

With a groan, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up again, disentangling himself from his damp sheets.

…_Woke up in a cold sweat again._

He stripped out of his pajamas in the early morning light that filtered in through his curtains, slipping into some navy-blue trousers he found hanging over his desk chair before picking up his sheets and discarded nightclothes and trailing them into the laundry room, dumping them on the basket. He washed and brushed quickly, running fingers through his perpetually messy blond hair and found a clean white shirt and socks for school. The uniform was ugly and had always been ugly, but it was mandatory.

Once he was presentable, he slipped into the living room.

He found her on the couch, asleep on her stomach, her head, an arm, and a leg dangling over the side onto the carpeting. The TV had been left on, but the sound was off and her snoring was gentle, barely audible. She must've called out for him in her sleep. She did that sometimes when she drank too much.

With a silent sigh, he took the small bottle of liquor from her nerveless fingers and took it to the kitchen, disposing the last of the amber contents in the sink. He threw away the bottle and tightened the faucet handles as much as he could, the steady dripping in the silence of the apartment disturbing him.

He kneeled in front of his mother, brushing the hair from her cool forehead and kissing it lightly, murmuring a goodbye. Then he stood up, slipping into his navy-blue jacket and shouldering his schoolbag. Out of habit, he fit his black paperboy cap on his head over his tousled hair before slipping into his shoes at the door.

"Yama… Yama-chan…"

Her lost murmur ached in his heart as he stepped out, shirttails untucked.

* * *

School was an endless chore, lasting forever without much respite. Not even the breaks between the eight-hour drag were of much enthusiasm considering his friends numbered few. But it was a distraction nonetheless.

By second period, his dream was forgotten. By the end of fifth, all he wanted to think about was Hikari.

The girl was sitting right in front of him, her scent drifting over to him with help from the fan turning lazily overhead. She smelled of Sakura blooms, cliché though it was, but on her the scent was quite appealing. Her head was bent over her work, glossy chestnut hair barely touching the collar of her blouse. As soon as the bell rang, she turned in her seat and smiled at him, her brown eyes bright with amusement at his slight blush.

But before she could say anything, before a word was uttered, a whirlwind landed to her left, seating itself on her desk and pressing a kiss on her petal cheek.

Motomiya Daisuke was what Takeru had never been and would never become; a well known, big-mouthed soccer captain. Not that Takeru had anything against soccer; he had just never joined a team and didn't plan to put himself in that position. First off, he'd always been rather small when younger. Shrimp sized and then growing a foot and some since puberty took a little getting used to. But what bothered him about Daisuke was how obviously sprung he was on Hikari. And how much he enjoyed _talking_.

Take now, for instance. The burgundy-haired boy turned in his seat, fixed those oblivious claret eyes on Takeru and grinned. "Did you see it, Takahashi? I can't believe they did this, but I guess it was due. I mean, I'd want the school to do something like this for me."

Takeru didn't miss the alarmed glance Hikari shot him before she reached out to lay a hand on Daisuke's sleeve. "Iie Motomiya-kun. Maybe he hasn't read it yet - "

But Daisuke ignored her, slapping the school newspaper in front of the frowning blonde. Suspicious, Takeru glanced at it, wondering if maybe Hikari had done another article that had made the front page, but when his gaze landed on it, on the picture more than anything, his heart lurched and the blood froze in his veins.

"It's been half a year, right? Half a year since the rock-star went missing?"

But he was beyond listening, beyond the stupidity of the callous onlookers, beyond anything. He felt oddly numb as he stared down at it, at the "Ishida Tribute: A Star That Will Never Fade" and Yamato's school picture, his unaware gaze, serious, cool, the brother he still saw now in his dreams. _Oniisan_…

He hadn't realized he had spoken out loud until he heard Daisuke's outburst. "Dude, he's your brother!"

True, mostly no one knew that little fact. And Takeru had had a hard time keeping it that way, the pitying looks and empty sympathy he'd surely get more than he could stomach even mentally. Only a few knew that the famous, disappeared, probably never returning Ishida Yamato was related closely to Takahashi Takeru.

Yagami Hikari was one of them.

He felt her cool fingers on his hand, but he ignored the contact.

"Gomen nasai Takahashi." Daisuke's voice was sincere. "I… I didn't know…"

Takeru only shook his head, pushing the newspaper away and standing up. He left the classroom just as the sensei for sixth period walked in from the other door, so he left undetected. Except that he could feel their eyes on his back, sympathetic, pitying; maddeningly annoying.

He walked down empty hallways, his feet heavy, his breath shaky, his eyes not focusing. It was like they had already pronounced his brother dead, a soul never to return, a kick n the stomach, glass down his throat. That stupid article had made it a reality; something that had finally faded from the news, the boy missing, will we ever find him? It was like his mum's drinking, allowing death to claim everything, down to the pores, drowning in despair, allowing it to take her. Angry tears stung his eyes.

He wasn't sure where he was heading until he started climbing stairs, up and up and up, to the freedom and solitude of the roof. He squinted once he got there, the sunlight bright on the white cement blinding him momentarily, but when his eyes recovered, he noticed the figure several feet away from him. He approached slowly, frowning, briefly forgetting his pain as he wondered who would bother his need for seclusion right now. He stopped right beside it. Or her, really, his only company was a girl wearing a uniform, but not the Odaiba High uniform. It was dark green, plaid skirt and white blouse, white kneesocks and about three silver piercings in her ear. She was asleep; a wisp of a girl curled up on her side, her bright red hair a bloodstain on the white cement.

Takeru stared down at her without meaning to, his mind working, trying to remember when he had seen her before. She was probably new to the school, wearing her old uniform and he had never seen her on the school grounds before that he could recall.

And just when a feather of a memory tickled at the back of his mind she opened her eyes rather suddenly, jerking awake. She blinked a few times and eventually rolled over, her gaze clearing and focusing on him with ruby intensity. The ruby gaze widened for a moment and she looked up at him skeptically, suspiciously.

"… Ishida…"

**

* * *

To be continued... **

A/N: I'm warning you guys right now that this isn't gonna be a pretty fic. AU, non-cannon, some dark themes.

Ano… review, please? .


	2. Chapter Two

She dreamt.

The tower was solid, endless, rising from the ground as if rooted there from ages past, part of the earth itself. It was beautiful, white marble gleaming like bleached bone, almost translucent in appearance. It beckoned for her to try to push her hands through it, matter non-existent for that single second when she'd free herself from this hell.

She stared up in scorn at the sky, too far away to reach; her jailer crouched at the rim of her prison, grinning down at her mockingly, his teeth yellow, his skin sallow. His face hatefully familiar. There was no way out, the tower circling her on every side without any break. White, white everywhere, blue above, brown below, red stains where she'd beaten her hands bloody on the walls.

But she wouldn't scream. She refused to give him anything, not a word, not a look, not a trace of her being.

She groped around the dirt for a stone to cast in his ugly eye and chucked it with all her strength, all her hate driving it that much higher. But before it hit, he disappeared, transformed into a myriad of white birds that squawked down at her in what sounded very much like laughter.

She pressed her hands to her ears, to shut it out, her mind screaming.

And the nightmare continued.

* * *

**The Scattering: Two**

* * *

She jerked awake. She always did these days, her consciousness coming back suddenly, unbidden but very welcome, something inside pulling her out of the nightmare. It didn't even unsettle her anymore-- not much, anyway. Nightmares were something she had all the time. What did unsettle her was the brightness of the sun in her eyes. But the concrete was wonderfully warm on her cheek, through her clothes, giving her body a heat it seemed to lack.

She was always cold.

She blinked a few times, trying to keep the demons away, forcing them out of her head. But she was interrupted in her ritual once her vision grew accustomed to the light. She soon noticed the shadow that sheltered her… meaning someone had found her.

She rolled over and boldly met the idiot's stare with her own, having a hard time keeping a clear scrutiny because the sun was right behind her intruder, throwing all they're features into shadow. But what caught her immediate attention was the eyes; the incredible blueness of them, bright even in the shadows. They were a clear, if melancholy blue, serious and beautiful. Her hands itched for a camera to catch the gaze, the confusion as he stared down at her, because that is what indeed he was-- a boy. Blonde, tall, messy hair and serious, almost irritated look. His cheeks had reddened slightly at having been caught staring.

And she couldn't prevent the murmured query that escaped her lips. "… Ishida…" because that is whom her still groggy mind pegged him as. But as soon as she said it, she knew it wasn't him. She hadn't seen him since she was ten. He was gone from her life, gone more than six years ago. Futile to hope when people escaped like butterflies caught in the wind.

The boy was still staring at her, albeit differently, his eyes shocked. "Wha… what did you say…?"

She sat up and stifled a yawn, wondering why he'd made a sport out of watching her sleep. She wasn't much to look at, she knew. "Nothing, forget it. I thought you were someone else," she confessed, waving her hand to dismiss the subject. Her green cardigan flopped over her hand, the sweater too big for her small frame. She stared at the offending material with a raised brow, wondering if she should just take her scissors out and chop the sleeves off. But that would ruin the whole thing and the yarn would come loose…

Her rambling thought was interrupted by his hand on her arm, his voice a strangled whisper. "How do you know him?"

His grip was hard and she shook it off, pulling away and glaring up at him. "What do you care? _Kuso_, settle down, all right. I made a mistake." She continued muttering under her breath, oblivious to the increased blood rushing to the boy's face as she reached into her school satchel and took out a baggie. It was a lunch baggie, the material a powder blue with gray kittens running after each other as the pattern. She took a boxed lunch and a pair of black lacquered chopsticks out of it and crooned to herself, her stomach grumbling.

She was in the happy process of scooping up some yakisoba when she noticed that the boy was still there, gawking at her. "_Nani_?"

"I… um." He cleared his throat and bowed his head a bit. "I'd like to apologize for the way I acted. _Gomen_ _nasai_."

"Oh, ok. Take a seat." She scooted over on crossed legs and offered him a spot beside her. Never mind that the whole roof was empty and there were many other places to sit.

He frowned, confused, but crouched down beside her. And was further surprised when she handed him her chopsticks - the yakisoba noodles dangling from them - and smiled a cheery smile.

"Eat, they're good."

"But I already had my lunch," he protested feebly.

She shrugged. "So, I did too. A couple of hours ago."

"And you are eating again?"

"I get hungry a lot." She rummaged in her pocket again, the sounds of change reaching his ears. "Sorry, but I only have one pair of chopsticks on me. I don't have any diseases, though." She stood up and walked over to the soda machine by the doorway. When she came back, a can of coffee in hand, he still hadn't eaten the noodles. "What, you think I poisoned it or something? They're good. I made 'em myself."

He stared up at her, wondering what kind of lunatic she was to all of a sudden offer him her second lunch when she didn't even know him. Especially after the way he had grabbed her. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Sora." That was all she offered, no family name, just her title. She continued staring down at him, her ruby eyes curious on him. She looked young, but her eyes betrayed her maturity. They looked pained, lost, traced with an ache that was barely there. He absently wondered as he stuffed the noodles in his mouth if maybe he could see her pain so clearly because he had so much of his own. But the taste of the yakisoba distracted him from further thought.

"_Sugoi_, this _is_ good."

"Told ya." She settled down again, opening her can of coffee and downing the first hot gulp. "Mmm, without this stuff, I'd fall asleep all the time." She offered him the can, but he refused, passing over the chopsticks and the rest of her lunch. She dug in gleefully, and he watched her eat curiously, his mind once again returning to the subject of his brother. Maybe he looked more like Yamato than he thought he did. Maybe she had seen a picture of him. Or maybe she had read the article this morning.

The last had him frowning darkly.

"You still haven't told me your name, you know," she reminded as she passed him the lunch again. Some noodles, a small mound of rice, ginger and pickles, and some spicy shrimp remained.

"Takahashi Takeru. …Why are you offering me you lunch?"

"Because you apologized." She shrugged to hide her surprised look. "And because I'm supposed to make friends."

"So you're new?"

"_Hai._"

"What year?"

"Sophomore math and science, senior literature and history." She was blushing, so he decided not to probe further. They ate in silence, sharing the food and chopsticks. When the bell rang, he jumped in surprise, oblivious to the fact that an hour had passed.

He stood up, brushing off his hands and his lap and bowed as she stared up at him. "Domo arigatou, Sora-san. Your meal was delicious. Maybe I'll see you again."

"How about tomorrow?"

He hesitated a bit, wondering momentarily if he really wanted someone intruding on his moody afternoons. But then he looked at her cheery, if absent smile and nodded. "Lunch, then. Ja ne."

"Ja!" She stuffed her chopsticks in her mouth and waved after him as he disappeared down the stairs. Once he was out of sight, she pulled the chopsticks out of her mouth and tapped them against her lip thoughtfully. "I guess he's the one Gennai meant…"

Shaking her head to herself, she continued her meal and muttered to herself as the students started leaving for home three stories below her.

* * *

**To be continued...**

A/N: This fic is inspired by many sources, some of which are the videogame Shenmue, the little I know of FLCL, Mikoshi the Japanese noodle house I used to work in, and of course, some of my own dreams, experiences, ideas, and general musings. Everything that isn't mine belongs to its rightful owners, and I claim no ownership. I remind you, this fic is going to have some dark themes, so read at your own discretion. The points of view change here and there, dearies; you have been forewarned. Also, some insaneness may occur.

Oh yeah.

Sugoi means amazing, super, something to that effect.

Kuso can mean damn, or to a harder extent, sht.

Ja ne means goodbye.

Sora means sky and Mimi means ears. Lol.

Review, please? .


	3. Chapter Three

The altar had been set up since the third week of his disappearance; a prayer place for the prodigal son whose soul his mother hoped for everyday. She went to drinking not soon after that, falling into the helpless weakness his father had fallen into years before in their marriage.

Ironic though it was, he had gone sober after their divorce.

Needless to say, that is where he found her. She was kneeling on a futon, lighting candles around his picture with a long stemmed match from a pretty little box in a drawer in the altar. Fresh flowers were placed everyday and the tapered candles always lit. The first few times Takeru had seen her, he had shed hot tears every time; for his missing brother, for his mother's pain, for his lonely father. For his own heart, which seemed to crumble a bit more all the time, until a numbness had settled in it that scared him a bit. But seeing all of this pain constantly didn't rest well in his heart or in his faith. Yamato would come back if they stopped crying. They just had to have hope.

Takeru arrived in the backroom beside the kitchen quietly, watching from the doorway as his mother closed her crystalline blue eyes and bowed her head, her hands coming together palm to palm. She recited the ritual prayer in her melodic voice, only a few tears touching her tone. How lovely she was, he always thought, his beautiful mother who had nurtured him all his life. How Yamato had resented her after the divorce. How he had loved her, fiercely, protectively, nonetheless. If he could see her now, see the state she was in...

_Where in Kami-sama's name are you, oniisan?_

But as always, there was no answer.

* * *

**The Scattering: Three**

* * *

It was past six when the knock came at the door.

Takeru looked up from the counter, the sound of the boiling ramen he was making for dinner the only company he had while he concentrated on his homework. His mother was in her bedroom, the door closed, the TV on quietly. The knock sounded again and he got up from his stool, passing the empty living room on his way to the door.

A yawn escaped him as he reached the door and he glanced out through the side window with teary-eyes, frowning and wiping blurriness away when he saw who had come a knocking. "Hikari?"

He couldn't help the nervous feeling in his stomach, and after clearing his throat quietly and running fingers through his messy hair, he opened the door slowly. He cursed his pale complexion when he felt the rush of blood to his face. "Yagami-san?"

She glanced up from the careful consideration she was giving her shoes and gave a faint smile, biting her lip a bit. "Takahashi-kun, I wasn't sure if you'd be home."

_Where else would I be? _But he didn't voice it, not wanting to sound like a moron.

She bit her lip again, and it took him a moment to recognize it, but when he did, it hit him quite suddenly. Yagami Hikari was… nervous. _Nervous_.

Takeru marveled at the realization, so much so that he completely forgot his manners and it wasn't until she cleared her throat that he realized he hadn't asked her to come in yet. He shook his head, and stepped back from the doorway, bowing his head a bit and blushing harder. "Yagami-san, please, come in."

"Domo," she murmured, stepping into the foyer and slipping out of her shoes. She followed him into the kitchen. "Did I interrupt your dinner?" she asked once she saw the boiling pot and his bowl waiting. She glanced at him, her eyes anxious. "I'll leave. Really. I didn't mean to interrupt."

But he shook his head quickly and circled the counter, turning off the pilot as it was already boiling. "No, no, it's okay. Would you like some, actually?"

"No, thank you. Mama is expecting me. I just needed to stop by quickly."

"Oh…?" He tried to make it sound like a statement more than a question, almost like a girl visiting him at home was not something out of the ordinary. But his curiosity betrayed him, so he tried to recover by clearing his throat and busying himself in the sink, keeping his back to her. "What can I help you with?"

She didn't speak for a moment, which struck him as odd, because Hikari was not one to hesitate when speaking her mind. Sure, she was polite and mannered, but she held strongly to her beliefs, something he admired in her.

"Ah, the article you saw today…? The one about your brother?" She paused again and he wondered briefly if she had noticed the way his shoulders tensed. "I—I wrote the article, Takeru."

He wasn't sure why he felt the grip of ice around his stomach; it shouldn't have affected him really. She was a journalist, that's what journalists did. They wrote articles, some of them without much thought for the way they might affect those close to the subject... So why the feeling of betrayal?

"I—I'm sorry…"

But here was why it came as such a blow; she herself was acknowledging the betrayal.

He didn't speak, didn't turn to look at her. He frowned at the clean sink for a moment, trying to figure out what to say, his grip on the tile hard, making his knuckles white.

"I didn't mean to cause you any pain, Takahashi-kun. I just… The editor liked it and she said those type of stories are good, everyone likes to read them." She paused. "Well, not everybody…"

"So it was a marketing tactic, so to speak."

"No, nothing like that!" She sounded perturbed and he didn't relish the thought of looking at her when she was floundering, not when he admired her strength of character so much. So he kept facing the wall. "I didn't mean it that way, Takeru. It was more out of respect. He was a part of our school; I thought it was only fitting."

_Was…_ That word by itself brought ire to his throat, made his hackles rise.

They remained like that for a moment, neither saying anything, before Hikari sighed and spoke again. "I'm sorry it affected you negatively, Takahashi-kun. I didn't want that at all." And he heard her leave, closing the door quietly behind her.

It was only after his mother padded into the kitchen, her gaze sleepy and lost that he finally took a deep breath and slackened his grip on the sink. "Dinner, okaasan."

* * *

He dreamt again that night, of what he couldn't quite recall. It was disjointed, of shadows and arrows of light. But this time, there was also his brother's silhouette and a girl with ruby eyes sitting at his feet, her eyes bright as flames. He stumbled through school, like usual. He noticed Daisuke watched him with what he guessed was concern in those claret eyes. Hikari and he tried to approach a couple of times, but Takeru always turned and went the other way, not caring to be bothered. It got to the point where Daisuke only watched from afar, while Hikari kept her back stiff and constantly to him. He didn't mind. He was oblivious. He doodled.

It was during his free period that they started whispering, a nagging murmur that started low at first, but grew progressively worse, her hushed giggles unraveling his frayed concentration. He had been staring at the pages of his history book, reading through hidden messages students of the past had inscribed in them. Their songs of undying love that had lasted no more than three months before the tunes had changed and the music had been burned. These thoughts all tremble when her low giggles reached him, the sound slithering to wrap around his throat and choke him momentarily.

He raised his hand for the bathroom pass and quickly exited; hoping the study period would be over by the time he returned from his trip.

It wasn't until lunch came around that he remembered his new acquaintance. She waited for him at the door, yawning, but waking up quite suddenly when she saw him, smiling. "Takeru."

Her use of his first name made him uneasy; he didn't know this girl, really. And yet she hooked her arm in his, like they were the best of pals and led him away from the stares towards the roof once again. She was still wearing her green uniform and three silver earrings in each ear. She also smelled like coffee, he noticed. An intoxicating odor that reminded him of his mother's working days, when she used to be up at half past six, half dressed in a suit sheath and furry slippers, armed with chopsticks and a cup of coffee, scrambling a quick breakfast of eggs for him before she was gone for the day. Home always used to smell of coffee before her breakdown.

"I brought enough for both of us," she announced, and he was quite happy to oblige her by sharing. There was no conversation, only food and long looks into the distant horizon. He didn't feel as uncomfortable as he had expected.

That is, until… "You could've brought your friends along."

"What friends?" As soon as he blurted it, he wished he'd swallowed the words. He hoped she couldn't see his blush under the cover of his hat. Or at least that she took it as impending sun stroke.

"The girl with the boy hair-cut and the guy with the goggles. Although I didn't know you could wear headgear in this school…" she trailed off thoughtfully.

He couldn't help the stab of annoyance. "Your hair is short, too." His blush deepened at the accusation in his tone… of course he had to retaliate like a seven year old.

She blinked, caught by surprise, before grinning at him impishly. "My hair is longer, though," she said simply.

His brows furrowed and he studied his mostly gone meal. He felt her eyes on him.

"Sorry, didn't know you liked her."

"I don't."

"Okay."

He glanced at her, at her innocent face and frowned again, in confusion this time. "No argument?"

She shrugged and lay back on the pavement. "What for?"

"I dunno…" He leaned back, too, but didn't lie down, instead resting his weight on his elbows. He didn't get her, really. She was so confusing, yet so irritatingly simple. Instead of giving himself the time to wonder on this, he changed the subject, hoping to find a normal topic of conversation. "What school do you come from?"

"Nowhere near here." Her eyes were closed and he wondered if she was going to fall asleep.

To prevent her from doing that, he probed further. "Which one?"

"Kyoto."

"The private academy?"

"No…"

He frowned, laying back as well, his thoughts lazy as he folded his hands beneath his head. His arm was grazing her shoulders and he felt a slight shiver, but he ignored it. "You couldn't have gone to the university, could you?" He felt the way her shoulders tensed and wondered once again why.

"The intermediate school," she finally muttered.

"Oh… No, but I meant what high school before this one."

She stayed quiet for so long that he wondered if she was even going to answer him. But he didn't worry about it too much. The day was soft, the light not strong enough to bother his eyes. It was tranquil, the noise of the other students seeming miles away...

"What do you dream about?"

He froze and turned his head to look at her so quickly it hurt his neck. "Nani?"

But her eyes were still closed. "What do you dream of?" And when she opened those ruby orbs and turned to focus them on him, he was sharply reminded of—"Did you dream of me?"

He sat up completely, his scalp tingling. Her gaze was disconcerting. "What? Why are you—"

"Did you? Who else was there?"

"I don't… What are you talking about?"

He slid back slowly on his rump because she was sitting up and was leaning closer to him, her eyes bright with speculation. "Was it just me, Takeru? Or was someone else there? Who was it?"

"I don't know—"

But she had gotten too close, her bright eyes searching his face for answers only he could give. Her eyes were hungry and he felt like he was burning, her warm breath on his cheek making him so nervous that he lost his balance, landing on his back with a thump.

"'Keru!"

He jerked awake and opened his eyes to the bright sunshine above him. "What…?"

"Well that was surprisingly rude of you, kid. Falling asleep in the middle of my conversation." But she didn't seem angry; just stared down at him quizzically. She shook her head before standing up and brushing her skirt off. "We gotta go anyway. Bell just rung."

He stared up at her, trying to recover his wits. "Nani…"

"Come on, moron, we have to go or you'll be late." And she dragged him up by the arm, surprisingly strong for such a skinny girl and began running towards the door, not giving him time to catch up with his thoughts.

* * *

**To be continued…**

(Yes, Krys, I'm continuing because of your comment in one of my reviews. I thought no one particularly cared for this piece of fiction. Lol.)


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